


Clues

by Meraki (ParisAmy)



Series: Re:Secrets [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Family Bonding, Humor, M/M, Secret Relationship, Sheriff Stilinski Finds Out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2015-09-29
Packaged: 2018-04-24 01:09:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4899733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ParisAmy/pseuds/Meraki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'We've left so many clues, Derek! We're like Hansel and Gretel. Y’know what we need to do right?’ </p>
<p>‘No.’</p>
<p>Stiles smacks Derek in the arm. ‘Remove all evidence from the scene of the crime!’ </p>
<p>‘You do know your Dad is the Sheriff? He knows how to spot evidence.’ </p>
<p>‘Well he hasn’t noticed we’ve been dating.’ </p>
<p>‘Maybe it would be best if we - ’</p>
<p>Stiles rolls his eyes. ‘Do you want my Dad to find the many, many condom wrappers littering my bedroom floor like candy?’ </p>
<p>Derek shudders. ‘Yeah, no. Let’s go.’ </p>
<p>‘Breadcrumbs Derek, we need to sweep them up!’ </p>
<p>Or, the aftermath of Walk Like a Man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clues

‘Outside,’ The Sheriff jerks his thumb over his shoulder. 

No one moves.

‘Now.’ 

Stiles nudges Derek in his side with his elbow. ‘You heard the man. I’ll wait here while you two hash it out. You can both talk like a man. Y’know chit the chat. Man to man.’

The Sheriff pats Stiles on the shoulder. ‘Both of you.’ 

Stiles groans and slaps a hand across his face.

The Sheriff smirks when he notices the look of relief on Derek’s face when he realises that he won't be alone with him. He pushes Stiles forwards. 'Come on, move it you two.'

‘Jeez, I feel like I’m going to face the firing squad,’ Stiles mutters as he grabs the paper bag full of shopping. Derek stuffs his hands in the front of his jean pockets and trails behind them. 

Outside, they stand in a Mexican standoff. Stiles squints against the sun. He watches as Derek runs a hand through his hair and looks over his shoulder at the road leading out of the grocery store. Stiles bets fifty bucks Derek’s thinking of hot-footing it. 

‘So? Anyone want to explain?’ The Sheriff rests his hands on his utility belt. 'Stiles?’ 

Stiles shuffles his feet and jostles the paper bag in his arms like he’s holding a squirming baby. ‘Well … uh.’ He scratches the back of his head. He opens his mouth and then closes it. 

‘Not like you to be lost for words son.’

Stiles shrugs and puts the paper bag on the ground. 

'They're mine,' Derek murmurs. He squares his shoulders and takes a step closer to the Sheriff. 

The Sheriff narrows his eyes. 'Why was Stiles paying for them then?' 

‘Well … uh, I’m glad you asked Dad.’ Stiles wags his index finger in the air. 

Derek and Stiles meet each other's gaze and, after a moment, they both nod to each other. Derek says: 'I forgot my wallet' at the same time as Stiles blurts out: 'They're a present!' 

The Sheriff bites back a grin at the look of disbelief and panic they exchange.

‘Dude!’ Stiles yells. His arms flail in the air. 

Derek groans and shakes his head in betrayal. 'Why?'

Stiles’ arms swing through the air again. ‘News flash! I don’t communicate with my eyes well! I'm a man of words, Derek!' 

‘Where were your words a minute ago then?’ 

‘Boys!’ The Sheriff holds his hand up in the air. ‘Enough.’ He waves a hand in Stiles' direction. ‘They’re a present?’

Stiles nods. 

‘Care to elaborate, son.’ 

Stiles narrows his eyes trying to work out if his Dad is yanking his chain. 

'They're a present,’ Stiles begins, eyes once again finding Derek’s. Derek raises both of his eyebrows in response and folds his arms across his chest. ‘Because I think he should get laid … y’know because he's always so grumpy.' 

Derek glares at Stiles.

'See?!' Stiles points at Derek. 

'Okay boys,’ the Sheriff sighs and checks his watch. ‘I have to get back to work. I suggest you two rehearse your story. Also I'm going to take these with me.' He walks over to Stiles and grabs the box of condoms from the paper bag at Stiles’ feet. 'And we,' the Sheriff gestures to the three of them, 'are going to talk. Tonight.' 

'10 - 4,' Stiles replies. He throws a mock salute at the Sheriff. 'Roger that.' 

Stiles and Derek let out a long breath as the Sheriff walks away across the parking lot. 

'That,' Stiles points at the Sheriff's retreating figure, ‘could have gone better.'

Derek’s hand reaches across the space between them. His fingers wrap around the back of Stiles’ neck and squeeze. ‘I’m going to kill you.’ 

‘Yeah, yeah. Heard it all before, man.’ 

‘This time I mean it.’ Derek grips Stiles’ neck tighter. 

Stiles shrugs himself out of Derek’s grip. ‘Hey, I bruise like a peach.’ 

Derek rolls his eyes. ‘I’ll kiss it better.’ 

Stiles steps closer to Derek so that they’re shoulders are brushing against each other. They watch the Sheriff get into his cruiser. 

'We've left so many clues, Derek! We're like Hansel and Gretel. Y’know what we need to do right?’ 

‘No.’

Stiles smacks Derek in the arm. ‘Remove all evidence from the scene of the crime!’ 

‘You do know your Dad is the Sheriff? He knows how to spot evidence.’ 

‘Well he hasn’t noticed we’ve been dating.’ 

‘Maybe it would be best if we - ’

Stiles rolls his eyes. ‘Do you want my Dad to find the many, many condom wrappers littering my bedroom floor like candy?’ 

Derek shudders. ‘Yeah, no. Let’s go.’ 

‘Breadcrumbs Derek, we need to sweep them up!’ 

#

The Sheriff goes back to the station, sits in his chair and lets out a long sigh. He picks up the phone on his desk and dials the number of the only person he can think to call in a moment of crisis. She answers on the second ring. 

'I think my son is dating Derek Hale,' he blurts out.

There's silence on the other end of the line. The Sheriff hears Melissa take a deep breath. 

'They've only just told you?' 

'What do you mean?' The Sheriff jumps out of his chair and paces around to the front on his desk. 'I caught them. Buying condoms. They couldn't even get their story straight.' 

'Oh.' 

'How long have you known?' The Sheriff perches on the end of his desk. Five seconds pass by. 'And who else knows?'

'Well I didn't know for certain. I suspected. And I’m not sure. Scott probably.' 

'Huh.' The Sheriff stands and makes his way back to his chair.

'You must have at least suspected. I mean, you're the Sheriff and Stiles isn't exactly subtle. There must have been clues.' 

The Sheriff thinks back to a few weeks ago. Derek lurking on the sidelines of the lacrosse field for, what he thought at the time, no apparent reason. Clue number one, the Sheriff thinks.

'I just- I mean- it's Derek Hale!' He leans forward so that his elbows are on his desk, and rests his chin in his hand. 'And Stiles has been in love with Lydia Martin since - since forever.' 

'Are you okay?' 

'Yeah, yeah,' he runs a hand through his hair. 'It was just a shock. And a reminder of how much he's grown. He's not a kid anymore.' 

'I know what you mean,' Melissa replies. 'I remember finding a packet of empty condoms in Scott's room and I realised he wasn't a little boy anymore.' Melissa sighs. She sounds wistful, the Sheriff thinks. He's pretty damn wistful too. 

'What are you going to do?' 

The Sheriff leans back in his chair. 'Look for clues.' 

'Good luck. Call me if you need any advice.' 

'Thanks Mel.' The Sheriff smiles and hangs up the phone. People always leave clues, even when they think they’ve cleaned the scene of the crime. 

#

Stiles enters his house and falls over a pair of his sneakers. Derek, a few paces behind, snickers and steps over them. And Stiles. 

‘Uh, we should head upstairs.’ Stiles pushes himself to his feet. 

‘Want me to carry you?’ 

‘Bridal style or fireman's lift?’ Stiles jogs up the stairs.

Derek follows behind. 'I was thinking more scruff of the neck.'

‘Nice. So,’ Stiles pushes open his bedroom door. ‘Scene of the crime.’ He rubs his hands together. ‘I need to clean this place up.’

Derek grunts in agreement. He walks over to Stiles’ wastepaper bin and digs around for all of the condom wrappers that they’ve hastily thrown away. He fishes them out and puts them in his jacket pocket. 

‘Dude,’ Stiles throws his arms open. ‘What’re you doing? If my Dad searches you it just looks like you’ve had sex with a lot of people.’ Stiles opens his bedside table and finds an empty condom box. ‘Or a lot of sex with me.’ 

Stiles tosses the box in his bin. Derek fishes it back out and puts it in his pocket with the condom wrappers. 

‘Which, technically, is what has happened.’ Derek opens Stiles’ wardrobe and pulls out his overnight holdall. He tugs open the zip and finds some socks, shaving cream, and hair wax.

‘Not helping,’ Stiles pouts. He opens the bedroom window. ‘Does it smell like sex in here?’

‘Always. Even before us.’ 

‘Great.’ Stiles collapses face first onto his bed.

‘Hey! I thought you needed to clean.’ Derek throws a stray sock at Stiles’ head. ‘And where’s my shirt?’

‘Huh?’ Stiles lifts his head up. Derek’s hands are on his hips and his face is creased with a frown.

‘Here’s my sleep-pants,’ Derek reaches under the bed and grabs them. ‘But where’s my t-shirt? It’s not in my overnight bag.’ 

‘Maybe you took it home?’

Derek raises his eyebrow. He folds his sleep-pants and puts them in his holdall. 

‘Look it’s probably somewhere mixed in with all mine.’ Stiles points to the pile of laundry by his dresser. ‘He’s not going to go digging through all that. Look, let’s take a quick sweep downstairs and then get outta here.’ 

‘Shouldn’t we just wait for your Dad?’ 

‘Derek, we’re not checking into my Dad’s prison before we have to.’ Stiles rolls off of his bed. He lands on the floor in tangle of limbs. ‘Wanna go have a last meal?' 

#

The Sheriff walks through the front door later that afternoon and enters the house like he would a crime scene. Slowly and methodically, so he doesn’t disturb anything. He scans the front hall looking for signs of a Derek Hale-like intruder. He finds nothing out of place though, except Stiles’ sneakers which have obviously been hastily kicked off and left for him to trip over. 

He steps over them. Let the kid trip, he thinks, then he might learn to put them away neatly. 

The Sheriff takes the stairs two at a time. Stiles’ bedroom door is wide open. He stands outside, arms resting on the door frame. He feels like he would be violating Stiles privacy to go in and essentially snoop around. Instead, his eyes glance around the room, taking in the mess of clothes and books.

The window is wide open, blowing in a soft breeze that makes the curtains fly up in the air and the loose papers on Stiles’ desk, that are being held in place by a large book, rustle.

It’s then that he spots a pair of theatre stubs pinned into the cork board above the desk. His eyes linger on them for a moment. Then it clicks. He remembers his wife telling him how she’d kept their first tickets from a movie. Stiles had a first date. And he’s kept the tickets. Clue number two.

#

'Maybe we should get you a makeover,' Stiles muses. His long fingers stroke his chin. He shoves another curly fry into his mouth. 'Y'know, make you look less Bad Blood and more Wildest Dreams.' 

'I have no idea what you're talking about,’ Derek scowls. ‘You have sauce on your face. Again.’

Stiles wipes his mouth with his sleeve. 'Lose the leather, Taylor Swift.' He stuffs more curly fries into his mouth. 

Derek pulls the plastic lid off of his cup and takes a gulp of soda. ‘Maybe.’ 

‘Maybe? Maybe! Dude, I expected a straight up no!’ Stiles shoves the last of the fries into his mouth. He fist pumps the air. ‘Like, I’ll live and die in this jacket.’ 

Stiles grabs his drink and sucks from the straw, slurping the last of his soda. 

Derek winces at the sound. He rubs a hand along one side of the leather. ‘I like this jacket.’

‘Yeah,’ Stiles licks his lips. ‘Me too. And that’s probably why my Dad hates it.’ 

#

Stiles pulls open the curtain of the store’s dressing room. He grimaces at the black turtleneck Derek’s wearing. ‘You look like a thief.’ 

Derek glares. 

'A hot on,’ Stiles amends. ‘Like George Clooney in Ocean’s 11.' He wags his eyebrows and smiles slyly. 

Derek shakes his head. He turns and looks at himself in the mirror. 'I think your Dad has bigger concerns about me than my clothes.'

Stiles wags his finger at Derek. ‘It never hurts to make a good impression. Hey, maybe I’ll find something to bring out the colour in your eyes.’ 

Derek’s eyes flash blue.

‘Or, maybe not.’ 

#

The Sheriff enters the bathroom next. He doesn’t know what he expects to find in here. A condom tucked between Stiles’ bathroom toiletries maybe. He pokes around the cabinet above the sink but doesn’t find anything. Except a child’s toothbrush. In the shape of a werewolf. The Sheriff picks it up and stares at it for a long moment. Is this another clue? He can't be sure, it could just be one of Stiles' weirder moments. He puts the toothbrush back and shuts the cabinet door. 

He turns around and takes in the rest of the small bathroom. Nothing. 

The laundry basket is full of clothes though. He reaches in and grabs the darker ones. The whites can be done later or tomorrow. He spots a few of his uniform shirts and pants and plucks them out. He pulls out a plain, black, short-sleeved t-shirt. It's unremarkable really, and the Sheriff doesn’t really know what makes him pause, but something inside him believes that it must belong to Derek. He can't be sure though. It’s just that all black isn’t really Stiles’ style. And it looks like it isn’t Stiles’ size. But hell, it’s not like he knows how kids these days dress. But he does know his son, he reminds himself. Clue number three, he decides. 

#

Stiles pulls his hand back from the door handle. 'Should we knock?' 

'Why would you knock on your own door?' 

'Alright smart ass.’ Stiles crouches down and peers through the keyhole.

‘Who looks like a thief now,’ Derek grins and lightly swats the back of Stiles’ head. ‘What are you doing? Get up.’ He pulls Stiles up by his collar. 

‘Maybe he's having a breakdown or something. The man might need his space. To grieve the loss of his only son’s virginity to an older man.'

‘Do you hear what you’re saying?’ 

‘Not always.’

#

The Sheriff is rummaging around in the cupboard under the sink looking for the laundry detergent when he hears the unmistakable sound of the front door slamming shut, and Stiles tripping over his sneakers. 

‘Ow again?! Dad?’ 

The Sheriff stands and dusts off his pants. He walks to greet them and can’t help but notice that Derek had changed since earlier. The James Dean leather jacket and white t-shirt have been replaced with a grey long-sleeved shirt. Derek looks uncomfortable, the Sheriff thinks. He keeps pulling at the collar of his shirt as though it’s choking him. He wonders whether it’s been bought especially for this meeting. He also doesn’t miss the way Stiles' eyes linger on the movement of Derek's biceps when he pulls his shirt. A good impression, or alternative motives? Clue number four.

‘Stiles. Derek,’ the Sheriff nods at them in turn. ‘Come on through to the kitchen.’

The Sheriff turns on his heel and leaves them nervously looking at each other. And then Stiles blows out his best put-upon sigh and trails after his Dad. Derek hangs back for a second and then proceeds to dawdle behind Stiles. 

‘I think we should all take a seat,' the Sheriff says, gesturing to the kitchen table. He pulls a chair out and sits down. Stiles follows suit a beat later. Derek remains standing. He has one hand tightly wrapped around the back of the chair. Stiles looks up at him. Derek stares back, and then with a look of weary defeat he pulls the chair out and sits down. 

The Sheriff takes a deep breath. 'I have a few questions and I want answers. Straight answers, no more keeping secrets. Do you both understand?' 

Derek nods. Stiles huffs. 

'Jeez dad, I didn't realise we'd been arrested. Way to make it sound like an interrogation.' 

'Can the jokes Stiles.' 

Stiles opens his mouth and promptly closes it as Derek whispers, 'your Dad's right. This is a serious discussion.' 

'Suck up,' Stiles mutters and rolls his eyes. 

'Stiles!' Both the Sheriff and Derek shout. 

Stiles holds up both hands in surrender. 'Shutting up.'

'I guess we better get down to business then.' The Sheriff leans forward across the table. 'How long have you been dating?'

Derek looks the Sheriff in the eye. 'A month and a half, sir.' 

The Sheriff nods and rubs his hand across his forehead as though he has a headache. 

'We were going to tell you,' Stiles adds. His fingers tap an off-beat rhythm out on the kitchen table. 

'Why didn't you?'

'I don't know.' Stiles shrugs, ashamed of himself. 'It was just new I guess, it still is new - '

'And yet you're having sex?' 

Stiles blanches. Derek blushes. 

'And while I'm not happy that you're having sex,’ the Sheriff continues. ‘I know there's nothing I can do about it.' He shakes his head. 'I guess I don't need to ask if you're being safe.' 

'Dad,' Stiles pleads. 'We don't need The Talk.' 

‘I know you don’t but - ’ The Sheriff leans forwards to rest his arms on the table. He looks at Derek. 'Stiles isn't a child but he's still my kid.' 

Derek nods. 'I know you must have concerns. I know what this must look like to a parent. The fact that I'm older than Stiles.' 

'Yes, and more experienced.' 

Derek winces. 

Stiles flinches in his seat. 'Dad, leave it. Please - ' 

'I wouldn't treat someone like I was treated though,' Derek interrupts. He clears his throat, pulling the collar of his shirt away from his throat again. 'That's what my experience has taught me.' 

The Sheriff pauses and considers Derek's statement for a moment, and then he nods, accepting Derek's earnest answer. He watches as Stiles smiles fondly at Derek, and then reaches across the space between them and squeezes Derek’s arm in support.

'I just need to know that everyone is being safe. And I don’t just mean while - uh, while having sex. You have to take care of each other. Show respect. Not pressure each other into anything. Stiles is still at school. You both have to remember that. This relationship can't get in the way of school work. You have to figure out how to make time for each other around other commitments.' 

Derek nods. 'Of course. We understand, sir.' 

'Yeah, we know Dad.' Stiles knocks Derek's shoulder with his. 'We're doing okay so far.' 

‘Good.’ The Sheriff smiles. 'And don’t let Stiles sweep you along in his hurricane either, Derek.’ 

Stiles begins to protest and then he catches the look of startled bewilderment on Derek's face. Stiles frowns and looks to his Dad. He looks just as puzzled by Derek's reaction though. Of course his Dad cares about Derek, he's the Sheriff, he cares about everyone in town. 

The moment passes by too quick to say anything though, and Derek recovers and grins at them both. 'I'll try not to.' 

'That's all I can ask.' The Sheriff laughs. 'Okay boys, I think that's all I wanted to say on the matter.' 

'Great.' Stiles beats a drum roll on the kitchen table with his hands. 'So maybe we can have those condoms back now?' 

'Stiles!' The Sheriff and Derek yell, but there’s laughter in their voices now. 

'Shutting up.' Stiles mimes locking his lips and throwing a key over his shoulder. 

‘So we’re all in agreeance?’ The Sheriff looks them both in the eyes. ‘No more lies from now on.’ He holds eye contact with Stiles for a moment longer than Derek. His son twists in his seat and looks away.

Derek glances at Stiles, and moves his eyebrows obviously trying to communicate something. Stiles grimaces.

'Agreed,' Stiles proclaims, sticking his hand across the table for the Sheriff to shake. 'Oh and Dad?' Stiles grips his Dad’s hand in his. 'Derek's a werewolf.'


End file.
